Page 9 of Craving a King

“Kofi Ajyei, how long do you plan to act like you only have business interests with the American?”

“Excuse me?”

She is digging too deeply. I have no desire to share with Akua that I have replayed Ella Jenkins’ TED Talk, “What About the Children,” at least 100 times since I Googled her school network. The woman is extraordinary. She is a bronze goddess that speaks like a warrior. Obsessively, I watch her full lips and dream of possessing them with my own. I will admit to no one that I stroke myself watching her give that damn speech over and over again. I will not share that my passion has ruined more than a few sets of satin sheets. I combust from the intensity of her eyes and the bounce of her hips when she glides across the stage. For 30 minutes, she commands an army and I, a king, want to be her soldier.

“Senya told me about your ride out here last night. The Kofi Ajyei I know would have driven her straight to that Westin and been done with it. You avoid drama like the plague. Yet, you still brought her here. The place you come to escape drama. I don’t have to remind you that if you get involved with this woman, there will be trouble. You will marry an Ashanti. Our queen should be of pure blood. Running around and giving that young woman false hopes will be an unnecessary disruption.”

I stand. “I assure you, Auntie, I know more than anyone the expectation that I marry Ashanti. However, no law says that I have to.” I soften my voice and take her hands. “Auntie, I promise it is just one kiss. I do not even know why I did it, but it will be the last kiss between us. I am interested in nothing more than protecting Ashanti business interests.” She does not look convinced. I don’t want her worried or, worse yet, curious. “Her name is Ella Jenkins, and she is the founder and chief executive officer of Revolution Academies. Her network of schools secured a position on the UN’s list of approved school vendors. Kumasi will select her network to fulfill our Promise Grant.”

“Ah, yes! The grant to build free public schools in town.”

“And don’t forget the surrounding villages,” I add.

Akua’s face alights with joy. “I’m so glad you are determined to serve all Ashanti and not just the rich. Your name will be praised long after your works.”

“I do not need praise, Auntie. Just a fully educated people.”

Akua means well. She herself was from the bush and made her way to the city. She impressed my grandmother 60 years ago when she showed up with a fresh bowl of rice and the same fish stew she will prepare today. “I’m keeping her close because I do not want too many outside influences on Ella as she plans our schools’ launch.”

“You’ve already decided to go with her network?”

“Well yes, she’s the best.”

“Does she know this?”

“That she’s the best?” I arch my eyebrow and give a half smile. “She has founded the most public charter schools throughout the urban cities in the U.S., and with the highest success rate.”

“No.” Auntie does not engage my silliness. “Does she know that you have already chosen her network, and that she really did not need to come here to win your favor?”

“Of course not. But in all fairness, she does not seem to know much about Kumasi, let alone our people. I think we can both get a better feel for each other’s vision if she breathes in African air and understands our ways before finalizing her proposal. Plus, I do not need her to launch from Atlanta and come by once or twice a year. I need her here at least a year to ensure the schools get proper implementation. So, Ghana must woo her.”

“Will Ghana woo her, or will you?”

The question floors me. Will Ghana woo her, or will I? Sometimes, I feel like I am Ghana. My whole life has been planned out for me and I lead 11 million Ghanaians. But I am more than Ghana, and Ella may need more than Ghana to stay. But I am not sure I am ready to share anything else other than my homeland with her. If it takes any part of me to woo her, it will be a lost cause. Auntie knows that.

“Auntie! Do not be daft.” I start to rub the back of my neck. My exasperation is on full display. “I just met the woman. The kiss was just a gesture that all men try with beautiful women. I honestly think her schools are what Kumasi needs. She only has to first understand why her school network needs Kumasi. What better place to do that than Bonbiri? I want to show her the real Ghana, not the tourist attractions and gleaming lights of Accra.”

My eyes plead with her to let it go. “Auntie, I must shower and dress. Ella and I have a long day in front of us. Please wake Senya as well and let him know to join us for breakfast.”

Akua relents. “OK, just be careful. You tend to break hearts without even realizing it. I’d hate for the villages to lose out on an amazing opportunity because of misplaced passion and hurt feelings.”

I let the mild scolding stand; she needs to rest. “OK, Auntie, I promise to be good. Now go and take some rest before you serve breakfast. You look tired.”

“I think it is me who has tired you.” She gives a light chuckle as she shuffles out the door.

When she leaves, I am alone with my thoughts, and her words sit with me. I cannot afford to lose the opportunity to build the best free schools in Kumasi and surrounding Ashanti lands. I invited Ella here on a whim, and I will have to be extra careful not to screw it up, which is what I usually do with women. They always want more than I am willing to give. I never want the emotional responsibility of a relationship. I do not have the time. I am a king that is not yet ready for a queen. I rule an empire of 11 million Ashanti. At this point, all I want is a nice dinner, conversation, and a good shag. Something we both can enjoy. I tell women that. It is fine for about three months, and then it gets stupid.

Women ask too many questions and demand too many answers. They think they have a right to my thoughts and want more and more of my time. Small things start getting left at the palace. Security is shooing a stranger away from palace gates. Games start to be played for which there is no rule book. If it gets really bad, our whole relationship ends up in Ghanaian and British papers. Then I am labeled a “playboy” that uses women. Or as one woman impolitely put it, “international fuckboi.” The scandals seem like bad dreams, and I always wake up wondering how I got there. After it all ends, I always have one less friend in the world.

Maybe that is just an excuse to not deal with the real reason I push love away. The responsibility of being everything to someone is far too heavy. I learned that lesson early, at 12. I thought a son’s love could save my mother from the demons that lurked in her mind, but I failed. It is safer not to be a lifeline. It is much easier not to care.

With Ella, I will keep all of our time and activities mission driven. I will have to crave her from afar. I have no time for love, and she does not strike me as the type to be down for dinner and a good bang. We will change Kumasi together as nothing more than comrades in the fight to educate Ashanti children. Maybe if I am lucky, we will do it as good friends.

Chapter Seven

Instigation

Kofi

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